Upon the street of lionga,
We hustle hard to survive koboonaga kutulo dongodongo, ikikokataani loo Dunia deelo midi donguu katani
I stoke the embers of the dream, I feed the hungry fire.
The rhythm of the pavement is a drumbeat in my chest,
A testament to labor that will never know a rest.
Kongbonaga eringo ko mookoimaramukini
To carve a legacy of gold out of the velvet night. Oh, the hustle is the game, street is name and money is the gain
Where God is the way,tangiri baayi langa akoroni lagaalonborudo imaluu awaa, lakini Kinga Doo aakitaa korinyi imalulo gbogbodaa aa loolu
Rise from the pavement, reach for the sky,
With the strength of the spirit, we work hard to survive
Yes, the hustle in the streets of the stone,Kodo nagadi ikulukita egaini kutujikayakilo lakini ibonga aloro Each copper coin contain a path of jagged flint,
I read the heavy silence like a sage reads ancient print.
The traffic flows like rivers made of rushing, restless sound,
While every step I taken lifts me from the barren ground.
They say the beginning is not easy hand,
Yet I bloom in the defiance of this earth and shifting land.
With focus as my compass and ambition as my guide,
I navigate the current of the rolling urban tide. Oh, the hustle is the game of the stone,
Where money is the gain
Rise from the pavement, reach for sky,
With the strength of the spirit, we learn how to fly.
Yes, the hustle in the heart of obongi town
To a kingdom of gimara, we claim as our own. Thought kongbonaga
yii gbogboodi against the hand of fate.
No mountain is too vertical, no cavern is too wide,
For the fire that is burning in the marrow deep inside. So let the morning echo with the rhythm of the climb,
I am a master of the labor, I am a keeper of the time.
The gray gives way to brilliance as I rise above the fray,
Transforming every struggle into light of coming day.
No longer just a shadow in the alleys of the cold,
I am the story written in a script of burning gold. Oh, the hustle in the heart of the stone,
Where the seeds of the future are sown.
Rise from the pavement, reach for the sky,
With the strength of the spirit, we learn how to fly.
Yes, the hustle in the heart of the stone,
To a kingdom of purpose, we claim as our own. In the streets of obongi town,we hustle to serve and we work hard to make our parents and families proud to serve in a day,a dedication to all the hustlers of obongi by Muhammad mbuu